A Japanese garden to tend, without hurrying.
Koi that swim and breed, bonsai that grow old, sand raked with one finger. A small island between sky and water, left to you by someone who loved it.
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In the hills, where the mist rises from the woods every morning, Haru tended this garden all her life. She left it to whoever would come after her, with one wish:
Look after it, without hurrying.
Her letters reach you one at a time, carried up the hill by Genji, the old koi dealer from the village. They tell you how to feed Hana, her oldest koi, how to water a bonsai, when to rake the sand. Read slowly, they tell you more.
The pond
Every koi is its own: its colours come from its genes, its length from its line. Twenty-five varieties, from Kohaku to Tancho, and rare forms that appear only when two carriers meet.
Choose a pair, watch them circle, hatch the eggs and raise the fry in a wooden tub until they are big enough for the pond.
The long game is a koi of perfect beauty that grows to a jumbo’s size. Few ever do.
The bench
No two trees are alike, and each one ages with the garden, from a cutting to a thousand years. Water it when the soil pales, prune its shoots one by one, bend young wood with copper wire.
Forget it for a few days and it forgives you: care brings it back.
The sand
Set the stones, then draw: grooves, waves, rings around the rocks. With vibration on, you feel each ridge you cross.
Lay the bed in your garden and what you raked stays there, until you feel like raking it again.
Contemplate hides everything and lets the garden drift slowly across the screen, koi, weather and all. One touch brings it back. From there you can also take a postcard of what you see, and send it to someone.
A year in the garden lasts six days of yours. Cherries bloom and shed, maples turn, snow settles on the roofs and melts in the sun. It rains, mist rolls in, the wind carries petals across the sky.
A deer comes down to drink at dawn. A fox shelters under the eaves when it rains. Butterflies find whatever is in bloom, small birds find the feeder, and a crane comes only if you are lucky. Stay quiet and they stay too.
Pull back the striker of the temple bell and let it go. Dip the bamboo ladle and pour. Watch the bamboo fountain tip and knock, and the cloth carp fill when the wind rises.
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Twelve languages: Italiano, English, Español, Français, Deutsch, Português, Русский, 日本語, 한국어, 简体中文, 繁體中文, हिन्दी.
Android phones and tablets.
